


hīene

by thominwtt



Series: ஒன்றாய் [2]
Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-10 19:39:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18414530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thominwtt/pseuds/thominwtt
Summary: Thomas, Minho, and Newt, as well as some of their friends from the glade, have escaped the maze with the help of a seemingly perfect group of scientists that say they just want to help them. Unfortunately, when Thomas learns that things aren't the way they seem, the gladers must run from their new home and into the Scorch: a deadly desert that takes lives just as fast as they enter it.The group must find a rebel organization that might have gone extinct, and, on top of dealing with the harsh sun rays, dehydration, and a surprise extra mouth to feed, relationships between the members are developing in ways that Thomas doesn't quite know how to deal with.-A thominewt rewrite of The Scorch Trials.





	hīene

**Author's Note:**

> okayyy so here's a new fic! hoping you guys will enjoy, we get to see the plot veer off more in this one, so I hope it's interesting for everyone.

Thomas wakes slowly, eyes blinking open as his blurry surroundings come into focus. There’s a loud buzz in his ears, and as he shakes his head to try and get his bearings, Thomas realizes the sound is coming from the helicopter he is currently riding in.

He whips his head around, startling himself so much that he smacks his head into the wall behind him. A hand plants himself on Thomas’ shoulder to steady him, and Thomas glances over to see it’s Frypan’s, the boy giving Thomas a sad smile. Thomas rights himself, slowly sitting up as Frypan’s hand slips away.

Thomas searches his surroundings, taking in the sight of the gladers asleep amongst the wooden boxes and supplies littering the floor of the helicopter. His eyes drift to Minho and Newt who are sitting directly across from Thomas. They are curled very close together, the blonde’s head tucked into Minho’s neck, eyes closed as the other boy has his arm thrown over Newt’s shoulder. Minho’s lips are moving, too soft for Thomas to hear over the roar of the helicopter, his eyes staring softly down at Newt’s face. Thomas’ eyebrows furrow at the sight, thoughts racing through his head as he stares at the two of them.

A memory of Newt’s lips moving softly against his suddenly appears in the forefront of Thomas’ mind. He can still feel the blonde’s shaking breath after their kiss, the way his shirt felt curled in Thomas’ fingers as he pulled Newt closer. Seeing the two of his friends wrapped so closely around each other makes a weird feeling bubble in the pit of Thomas’ stomach. He doesn’t think it is jealousy; it doesn’t feel harsh enough. Instead, Thomas feels almost forgotten, like he’s being left out of something. He shakes the thought from his mind, berating himself for the stupid thought.

 _Newt and Minho don’t owe you anything,_ Thomas thinks to himself. Although, he still can’t look away when Newt shifts from under Minho’s arm, sliding a hand across the other boy’s torso and gripping his fingers in Minho’s shirt. Thomas sees a corner of Minho’s mouth curl up in a half-smile before the boy tilts his head down, pressing his lips to the top of Newt’s head.

Thomas feels his pulse race, averting his eyes quickly away from the private scene in front of him. He makes eye contact with a man he doesn’t recognize, confused when he sees the man glaring hard at him, gun resting against his chest. Thomas’ breath hitches as the memories from what must be from only hours before suddenly hit him.

The dead researchers, the video message, Gally somehow finding his way to them and Chuck…

_Oh god, Chuck._

Scrambling to get at his pocket, Thomas breathes a sigh of relief when his fingers curl around the carving Chuck had given to him, only twenty-four hours prior. It feels like years to Thomas, who can picture every detail about Chuck’s last moments fresh in his mind. He fights back the sob building in his chest and grips the carving tighter, feeling grounded by the wood digging into his palm.

He wants to forget. He wants to have them wipe his memory again, and for the researchers at WICKED to throw Thomas back into the Maze, where he can run and have no memory of the death he’s caused, of the people that have been lost because of him.

With those thoughts running through Thomas’ mind, and an all-consuming exhaustion settling on his shoulders, he leans his head against the wall behind him, closing his eyes. A couple tears fall from behind his eyelids, and Thomas wipes them away angrily. It takes him awhile, but slowly Thomas falls into a fitful sleep.

 

-

 

“Thomas!” A voice screams, close enough to Thomas’ ear that it makes him jerk awake.

Blinking rapidly, he scans the controlled chaos that seems to be going on around him. Minho is the one who had been calling his name, and he and Newt are currently kneeling in front of him, wide-eyed and darting their gaze between Thomas and outside of the helicopter. It’s dark outside, the only light being the one in the cockpit of the helicopter, and another small, bright spot in the distance. The gladers are being led out of the helicopter by what looks to be armed guards. One of them shoves Winston when he doesn’t move fast enough, and the boy almost trips over himself, landing on the sand below with a audible thud.

The noise of the helicopter has stopped, Thomas realizes, the guards yelling at them to _get a move on_ as the others leave. Minho reaches out a hand to help Thomas to his feet, and the three of them jump off the edge of the helicopter; the last to leave.

“Do you know what’s going on?” Thomas mutters to Minho under his breath, his lips almost grazing the boy's ear. Minho subtly shakes his head, eyes wandering as he looks at their surroundings. The light in the distance seems to be where the guards want them to go, if their shoving and barked orders are any indication.

Then, from out of nowhere, they hear a garbled scream from close by. Thomas whirls around, searching the darkness of the night for the source of the noise. But he can’t see anything except for the anxious faces of the guards and gladers alike.

A guard pushes Thomas shoulder, pointing toward the light in the distance. “Run! Now, go!” He bellows in Thomas’ ear, and he doesn’t wait for further instructions, taking off at a sprint. He hears shots ring out behind him, and another muffled scream fills the silence. Thomas picks up his pace, feeling too slow in the sinking sand under his feet. He chances a look over his shoulder, wanting to make sure Newt and Minho are close by. They are; only meters behind Thomas as they run.

Slowly, as the light in the distance becomes bigger, Thomas can make out a large building, the tall doors illuminating by the spotlight above it. The sand starts a downwards slope, and Thomas almost stumbles, legs going too fast for his body to catch up. There is more gunfire, and the almost animalistic sounds of snarling that is a lot closer than they had been before. Thomas sees a figure darting in the darkness beside him, and he has to dodge out of the way to avoid a collision with the person. He just arrived at the door, which swings open once he’s near, when a familiar-sounding yell is made from behind him, and Thomas turns quickly on his feet.

For a split-second, it’s like Thomas’ brain can’t register what his eyes are seeing. One of the gladers from the helicopter, a runner with unmistakable curly brown hair that Thomas remembers meeting on his second day in the glade, is taken down. Thomas can’t see his face once he’s on the ground, but he can see the boy’s figure, laid out on the sand as the person rips into his body with their bare hands, teeth closed around the boy’s neck.

Newt, who stands a couple feet behind the boy, is staring, horrified, at the scene in front of him. He’s frozen where he stands, mouth opening and closing at the sight of the glader being ripped apart not two meters away. Minho grabs at Newt’s arm, forcing the blonde’s gaze from the monster to Minho, eyes wide and wet as Minho tugs him toward the light.

Thomas feels a heavy weight lift off his chest as the they all reach the door. They are ushered inside the building quickly, the large door slamming behind them.

“Where are we?” Winston asks from somewhere to Thomas’ left, but Thomas is too busy gaping at the sight in front of him to answer.

They’re in a giant room, the size rivaling that of the Glade, filled with helicopters and other machines Thomas doesn’t recognize from his limited knowledge of the world outside of the Glade. There are people, more people than Thomas can ever remember seeing in one place, all working on or around the machines. Sparks are flying, and the roaring noise of metal grinding surrounds them.

“Woah,” Frypan says, and Thomas looks over his shoulder at him. Teresa and another young glader stand beside Frypan, and Thomas does a silent headcount to make sure they aren’t missing anyone. To him, it looks like they only lost one to the desert outside, and Thomas tries not to feel guilty about his own relief.

A man who’s wearing a matching outfit to the guards on the helicopter walks by, and Thomas shoots out a hand, gripping onto the man’s arm.

“Hey, where are we?” Thomas questions, pulling on the man’s sleeve. He realizes it might not have been the smartest idea to make one of the guys mad when Newt hisses at him to let the man go, but instead of becoming angry, the man just shakes Thomas’ hand off of his arm and walks off.

They’re then led through the room by what’s left of the guards, guns lifted with the echo of a threat that makes them walk forward. It doesn’t matter what questions Thomas asks, or how many people he tries to gain the attention of; everyone around them continue to stay silent and ignore their existence, focused solely on their tasks.

They go through a smaller door that leads out to a hallway, brightly lit and reminiscent of the WICKED halls they roamed when they escaped from the maze.

After what could have been anywhere between a couple minutes and an hour, they come to a slightly wider hallway, with seven identical doors lining each wall. The men with guns take them to the last metal door at the back wall, shooing them all inside before slamming the door behind them.

“What is happening?” Winston asks, turning back to look at the only discernible exit in the room. Thomas takes a step forward, twisting the handle of the door. He’s unsurprised when it doesn’t budge.

“Hey, guys?” Minho calls, and the urgency in his voice makes Thomas spin around, scanning for danger. Instead, when he steps further into the room, he finds the boys crowded around a large table piled with food.

It’s food that Thomas knows of but doesn’t have any memory of ever eating. Cake and buns and soda and chocolate and a stuffed turkey and pasta and Thomas can feel saliva gathering in his mouth by just looking at the food. His stomach aches suddenly, and it takes all of his willpower not to dive forward and scarf everything down his throat.

“Do we trust it?” Frypan questions, glancing at Thomas. Thomas shrugs.

“They wouldn’t save us from the glade just to bring us here and poison us,” Newt reasons shakily, and Thomas notices his Adam's apple bob as he swallows.

“I don’t know about you shanks, but I’m eating,” Minho reaches out, grabbing a handful of chips and stuffing them into his mouth. His happy groan at the taste sets off a chain reaction, and Thomas and the rest of the gladers quickly join in, fistfuls of food flying across the room as everyone tries to get their hands on something to eat. Thomas barely tastes anything as it passes his tongue and goes directly into his stomach. He eats until his stomach hurts and it’s hard for him to move without feeling like he’s going to throw up. So, he settles against one of the walls and watches the other gladers gorge.

Unfortunately, being the first one done also means he’s the first to run to the bathroom when his food decides to come back up. He barely makes it to the single toilet before his he empties his stomach, his throat burning as he loses all the nutrients and calories he had just gained.

When he wanders out of the bathroom a few minutes later, he’s met with a few of the gladers crowded around a garbage can, as Winston runs past him to the toilet. Thomas grabs a bottle of water and a small plateful of raw vegetables, slowly munching on them as everyone else purges their own meals.

Minho doesn’t get his own time in front of the toilet until later, when all but Thomas, Newt, and him have passed out on the concrete floor. Newt and Minho had been sitting together opposite from Thomas, chatting quietly about what had happened to them in the last few hours, when Minho had jumped up and sprinted to the door.

“And there goes Minho,” Thomas says, a small smile twitching onto his lips.

“Was gonna’ happen eventually.” Newt nods, turning to look at the bathroom door that Minho had disappeared behind.

“We definitely shouldn’t have eaten that fast,” Thomas agrees, giving a pointed look to the gladers asleep around them. Newt scrunches his face in a thoughtful look.

“I don’t remember the last time I ate,” he says, rubbing a hand over his stomach absentmindedly. “Food got a little scarce after the Homestead.”

Thomas looks up to him quickly, surprised the boy could mention the explosion so easily. But Newt isn’t as relaxed as his voice makes him seem; shoulders hunched and teeth digging into the flesh of his bottom lip.

“Yeah,” Thomas murmurs, not sure what else to say to the blonde. He wishes Minho was here; the other boy seemed a lot better at comforting Newt than Thomas ever would be.

As if Minho could read Thomas’ thoughts, he ambles into the room, face twisted in a grimace as we wipes the back of his hand over his mouth. “That’s shucking disgusting,” he says, stumbling over to Newt’s side. He slides to the floor, resting his head on the blonde’s lap and burying his face into his stomach. The blonde relaxes his tense posture under Minho’s weight, leaning back on his hands to make room for the boy.

“I’m going to sleep now,” Minho announces, squirming around on the floor for a few moments until he’s comfortable. Newt gives him a small smile, running a hand through his dark hair as he settles.

“He’s a lot different from when I first met him,” Thomas says, watching as Minho’s breathing slows and steadies to a rhythmic lull.

“When you met him first he was drunk and completely out of it,” Newt reminds him, smiling fondly at the memory.

“He was colder, too,” Thomas says, backpedaling when he sees the argument start to form on Newt’s lips. “Cold is the wrong word. Closed off, maybe.”

Newt sighs, stroking his fingers through Minho’s hair as he thinks. “Minho’s never had an easy time making friends.”

“Yeah,” Thomas chuckles, “I remember that, too.” A flash of a memory of Minho and him arguing while they string Alby up to the wall of the maze flashes through Thomas’ mind. “How’d you two get so close, then?”

An odd, almost pained look crosses Newt’s features before it quickly disappears.  “I don’t even know, really. We were both in the first group of gladers that were sent up, and there were so many fights that first month; people just didn’t know how to deal with everything.

“I became sort-of like a mediator, always tryna’ break up the fights,” he gives Thomas a wry smile, “and none of those guys, so hyped up with adrenaline and fury that they couldn’t get it out any other way besides violence, hated anyone as much as they hated people who wanted to break up their fights.

“So, one time, a few weeks in, I was in the middle of a fight between these two big guys, tryin’ to stop one of ‘em from throwing the first punch.” Newt gestures to his body the best he can with Minho draped over him. “And, as you can see, I’m not the biggest of men by any means, especially back then. So one of the guys gets so pissed that I’m in his way that he tries to take his stupid alpha-male-strongman anger out on me, and knocks me right in the jaw.

“So I go down, obviously, and the boys go back to circling each other, gladers surrounding them like it was the best entertainment they’d ever seen.” Thomas guesses, by the look on Newt’s face, that it probably was. “And I got right back up and shoved my way in between the two guys again, bloody face and all. The guy who had hit me didn’t like that very much, so he didn’t hesitate to go for me right away.”

“Let me guess,” Thomas says as Newt pauses, “Minho came to your rescue and beat the shuck out of the guy?”

The blonde throws his head back, a throaty laugh escaping from his chest. The movement jostles Minho, but the boy doesn’t make a noise from Newt’s lap, so Thomas assumes he’s still asleep.

“Nah, Tommy.” Newt grins. “I held the shuckface down until he stopped foaming at the mouth and then I told him, very politely, where exactly he could shove his uptight macho-man attitude. Minho was the other guy in the fight, and I guess I got a little respect from him and the others after that.”

“Wow,” Thomas says, eyes widening. “And who was the guy you pinned down?”

The happiness slips from Newt’s face and he tugs on his bottom lip with his teeth. “Alby,” he says softly, so quiet that Thomas almost misses it.

“I’m sorry, Newt,” Thomas breathes, “I don’t know if I’ve said that yet, but I’m so sorry. I know you guys were close.”

Newt presses his lips together. “I just wish he could be here with us. After three years in that shucking maze, I just wish he got to experience this.”

The back of Thomas’ eyes start to sting as he remembers Chuck’s lifeless body curled in his arms, the boy’s wish to leave the Glade and meet his parents. Thomas coughs, trying to clear the lump from his throat. “Yeah, me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> leave me a kudos and a comment if you liked it! thanks for reading! :)


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